


peter's day is a-okay

by lizwillstealyourgirl



Series: the peter parker protection squad [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Extended Metaphors, Fluff without Plot, Mentioned May Parker (Spider-Man), No Plot/Plotless, Peter Parker has ADHD, Precious Peter Parker, Self-Insert, a little bit, mentioned Tony Stark, this has literally no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-07 21:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18240518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwillstealyourgirl/pseuds/lizwillstealyourgirl
Summary: the clocks in peter's head aren't so loud today, and he's grateful for the things he's got; the life he's lived.





	peter's day is a-okay

**Author's Note:**

> hey this is literally plotless it's kind of a vent fic pls enjoy!!!

**peter’s day is a-okay**

 

there's a clock in his mind; sometimes, he pictures it as if it were a grandfather clock, which chimes heavy and loud on every hour, trills humbly under its breath on each minute passing, and sleeps, quietly, through the early morning. other times, he imagines a digital clock that ticks only when programmed to do so, often just after the day begins or sometimes just before, and this clock _never_ sings a lyric wrong. however, of all the clocks in his brain, his favorite is the small, old, dusty one that fits on his nightstand; it's blue, but the paint is chipping so passionately the wood appears green, and it's hands don't move to the same rhythm as any of his other clocks: each tick is offbeat, every song out of tune. this is his most _favorite_ clock, his most _human_ clock, and though it's unreliable and irresponsible, peter is never afraid to check the time here; it's his most _safe_ clock.

 

on most days, he counts the seconds the clocks chime to the tune of whatever song is stuck in his mind. the music, which replays so fervently it's almost angry, is most often sung to him by his clocks so that he can keep track of the time. often the music is loud enough, boisterous enough for him to hum or even whistle along; on good days, the music is fervid and fresh, and for each _thwip_ of his wrist, there is a corresponding strum; on bad days, where the music tastes more like sardines than like strawberries, he prefers to mutter the lyrics under his breath. sometimes, on both good and bad days, karen will comment on his singing, make a joke so that peter cracks a smile, but she always corrects herself with a compliment. peter's not such a bad singer.

 

on the best days, peter doesn't even need the music, and he repeatedly forgets the clocks as a whole. on those days, the music would only provide white noise anyways, since the fireworks of excitement still linger on his tongue; on the worst days, peter's music-less again, because of the fireworks' aftertaste, but in this way, it's anything but excitement. peter loves those no music days anyway; in some ways, those are his loudest days, where he can, in the vast silence of his brain, focus entirely on the sounds of the city that never sleeps. usually, new york is too loud with all of her chatter and change, but on the best days, and sometimes the worst too, he likes the noise.

 

this bad day is not different from the others, perhaps, but it's special nonetheless. most of peter's bad/worst days are spent in the sky, swinging from side to side, catching on countless ledges and floating through the air; he spends little of it elsewhere. today, however, _this day_ , he doesn't have the privilege to be free; instead, he has an essay due at midnight, so even though his head is pounding so mercilessly it may explode and the clocks are ticking vehemently, peter's at a coffee shop on the outskirts of queens. he's typing away, furiously, like he's being timed - and, in a way, he sort of is - but the words he's spilling are tasteless and unruly. his brain feels like it's gone to mush, been made into _boudin's_ butternut squash soup, and his heart is pounding to the distant rumbling of the baristas. just as he feels like he's been at _origin's_ for days - it's only been an hour - a small coffee is set in front of him. it's iced, his favorite, with three times as much milk as coffee, and _god_ \- it's perfect. absently, in his sleep-deprived, grateful mind, he thinks he's ready to marry either the coffee or the person that gave it to him.

 

he looks up to see the person, to thank them, and is met with the warm, umber eyes of a girl he knows dearly: m.j.

 

"m.j.," he huffs out, breathless in the sort of way only m.j. makes him, "thank you. for the coffee."

 

she shrugs, like it was a cup she had seen in the dirty dishes and just thought he'd want it, like it didn't cost her a penny, like it was no big deal, and smiles a little bit at him in that m.j. way. "no biggie," she says, and peter wonders if he's _ever_ met someone as cool as m.j.

 

"do you...want to sit?" he asks, because now it's kind of awkward, and he's never been really good at talking to people or whatever. she smiles in that same way - it's not even technically a smile, but peter knows it's _her_ smile, he can recognize it by the buoyant sparkle in her eyes - and nods, sliding into the chair in front of him.

 

"you sure?" she points at peter's laptop, which sat abandoned to his left. "because you looked busy. pretty focused."

 

peter waves it off, thinks to himself, _there will always be another stupid essay, there will not be this_ ever _again_. "lewis will get her essay when she gets it," he jokes, but he knows this is going into turnitin,com as soon as he gets home.

 

m.j. perks up at that pretty visibly, like the word _essay_ was her favorite one. "i can help you with that, if you want. my friends say that's my thing."

 

"i thought you didn't have any friends," peter teases, and she rolls her eyes. he nods anyway, accepts the help because he knows somewhere, ben is screaming at him to do so, and doesn't even flinch when she punches at his shoulder. "thanks," he says, a little bit awkward, and she shrugs again like helping peter means nothing to her either way, like she's entirely neutral on the subject. in the back of peter's mind, he asks if she is neutral, or if he actually means something to her, anything at all.

 

for a while, it’s quiet between them, save for m.j.’s advice and direction and peter’s complaints and thanks. as peter draws closer in to the conclusion paragraph, he makes the executive decision that his conclusion paragraph will suck, but he’d much rather _hang out_ with m.j. than _be tutored_ by m.j. - so he slams his laptop shut.

 

“i’m done,” he announces, and she breathes out through her nose in a puff of air that mirrored a laugh. “please, can we talk about literally _anything_ other than the theory of existentialism as a plot device in _the invisible man_ ? and i mean: _literally_ anything else.”

 

m.j. grins, but hides it behind a nonchalant shrug. “how’s your internship going?”

 

not exactly the topic peter expected, but he plays along. “uh, pretty good, mr. stark is a really nice guy. great boss and all that.”

 

“so you’re _not_ getting shot at? or breaking your wrist while swinging through queens? does any of that ring a bell?” she smirks at him, and the way her eyes sparkle remind peter of detention, how she draws people and laughs from behind her notebook, and peter’s not so much _annoyed_ as he is _astonished_.

  
“ _how did you know?_ ” he asks incredulously.

 

“you are the worst secret keeper known to man-” she pauses to correct herself- “besides ned, of course.” they both laugh a little at that - yes, ned _does_ suck at keeping secrets.

 

there’s music in his mind again, and he holds his breath, counts how long it takes for m.j. to hear the song, just in case. she doesn’t react at all, doesn’t notice any changes - and if she does notice, she doesn’t let on, and she appears, instead, entirely neutral - so peter exhales deeply. he begins to tap his foot, hums a little bit under his breath, and says, “well, i’m an open book. but you’re full of secrets. maybe your standards are just too high.” she rolls her eyes a little at that.

 

“i don’t have _that_ many secrets,” she responds, and he _laughs_ , loud and bubbly, because _she absolutely does_ , and he tells her as much.

 

“yes you do,” he reaches forward, punches her arm in the way she does to him, but with a fraction of the strength; it’s more of his knuckles brushing briefly against her arm than anything else. “there are so many things i don’t know about you. i mean, i kind of don’t know _anything_ about you,” he admits. she frowns at that, and he’s a bit surprised at his own candor.

 

“well,” she starts, but stops abruptly with a sigh. “yeah, you’re right. i’ve got walls, or whatever. i don’t tell anyone anything, except liz, because she’s… well, she’s liz.” peter didn’t know they were friends, but he certainly isn’t mad about it.

 

“i didn’t know you and liz were so close,” he offers, and she grins a little, hiding it behind a shrug. “when did you two become friends?”

 

“after you ghosted her at homecoming,” m.j. snarks, and peter blushes, but there’s clearly no heat to her words. “she and i slow danced because i didn’t want her to feel alone. we had some deep conversation about politics and democracy as a concept and stuff, and, i don’t know, it was really fun.”

 

“is she scary and liberal like you?” peter asks, taking a sip of his coffee, and she laughs more freely than he’s ever seen it.

 

“absolutely,” she confirms, and he grins.

 

they talk a little while longer, and peter’s surprised how easily it flows. he loves m.j., of course, he and ned and her are all friends, but he and m.j. have _never_ hung out alone. ned and her have, all the times peter’s run off to be spider-man, and they get along _really_ well; sometimes, peter’s even a little bit jealous of it, because ned’s _his_ favorite person, and he’s a little bit attached, but mostly, peter’s just grateful someone out there think ned’s as great as peter does.

 

what really surprises peter, though, is how silent his mind has become over the last hour or so. the coffee shop, which was bustling when he’d first arrived, is now mostly empty and quiet, so his headache has started to fade to the point where peter’s completely okay. the clocks aren’t ticking so mercilessly anymore, and peter’s not so unfocused. something about m.j.’s energy puts him deeply at ease, in the same kind of way ned’s does, and peter’s fucking _blessed_ to have such good friends.

 

the time passes sweetly, softly, gently; m.j. sits with him for almost an hour and a half, tutoring and talking, before peter looks down at his phone and sees a text from may, reading, _When are you coming home?_

 

he responds as soon as he sees it, but it’s been almost twenty minutes since she sent it, so he has a feeling he’s kind of fucked now. _i can come home whenever_ , he says, and immediately she responds, _Please come home soon!_ peter smiles at his phone, which m.j. almost teases him for, but peter isn’t embarrassed around her anyway.

 

“i’ve gotta go,” he pouts, and she smiles, but it’s that _goodbye_ kind of smile that peter hates the taste of.

 

she nods, and says, “okay,” a little bit quiet, but adds, “i’ll see you tomorrow?” and he agrees. she grins at him, brighter now, and grabs her bag. he packs up his things wordlessly, and says his goodbyes. as he walks out the door, he turns back to her and waves, beaming at her. she smiles too, and waves, and says, “tell may i said hi.” he promises her that he will; he does.

 

peter supposes, in another world, he might be intimidated by the way m.j.’s kind of mean and snarky, a little bit sarcastic a _lot_ of the time, and stoic, doesn’t smile very much - but he’s not scared of it, not anymore, because tony is _exactly_ like her. he sees the similarities between them, bright and angry like a slap in the face, and he loves it; he can imagine a world where tony comes to the decathlon meets more often, talks to m.j., lets her glare at people, makes fun of peter and ned with her, and that’s a world peter kind of wants to live in.

 

he’s thinking about this, driving, and the clocks in his mind are so quiet, his heartbeat so steady, his mind so at ease. he’s driving, listening to his favorite playlist, singing along like a maniac, and he pauses to say, “karen, can you text tony that my next decathlon meet is in two weeks, and he can come if he wants to?”

 

“certainly, peter,” she says back to him, and he wonders if karen understands how deeply he loves all the things about her, how grateful he is for her, if only because she’s an excuse to love tony. he pretends she’s not purely electronic, pretends she’s more human than that, and he thinks about how well they’d get along. she says to him, “would you like me to read it back to you?”

 

“yeah, karen, please,” he says, and she does, and he’s so happy he’s got artificial intelligence connected to his car, one that understands him fully, even when his clocks are ticking. absently, he thanks whatever’s out there pulling the strings for all the people he’s met over the years, all the people he’s loved; he’s got one of those fat, bleeding hearts that falls in love too easily - clearly, seeing as he’s friends with his a.i. - but he’s okay with it, because somehow, all of those people have loved him too.

 

his clocks are quiet for the rest of the night. the ticking doesn’t stop, but it’s not as loud as before, it’s more peaceful than before, and peter thinks it tastes like something soothing in his mind. the clocks don’t bother him, now, and when he gets home, after dinner, he flops on his stomach, tucks his face into his pillow, and falls asleep faster than he has in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked it :-))))))) it's meaningless i know i'm sorry. people complain about my lack of capitalization a lot so if you want me to rewrite with capital letters,,,,, Let Me Know!
> 
> ps: here's the playlist i mentioned! i like to think he was listening to "Wolves (You Got Me)" by Dreamers during that scene hahaha! 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/beekathleen/playlist/5Yk67nTVBQaUiClqo7E12R?si=UxlxFLpvRquoE0O6UBCYIQ
> 
> talk to me on tumblr :) peterporkerrr.tumblr.com


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